Pond, woodcut by Frederick Nunley
Used here with his kind permission






 

 

 

 

 

fishpond

 

 

Pip Wilson

 

 

 

 

This is the blog where I post poetry as I find it in the fishpond outside the door of my garden flat.

 

 

 

 



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I look into a fishpond  

fishpond: a prophecy


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Monday, March 28, 2005

He puts the phone in his pocket. "Tell me, Dean, can you grok it?
Does nothing appear like it is?
I'm just thinking aloud -- but when you see a cloud --
what do you see? And how'd you see it? You're allowed
to tell me the truth. Pretend that it's President biz."

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